


Mediocre

by blueelvewithwings



Series: Spanking Sunday [61]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Caning, Dubcon for both spanking and sexual actions, Endgame Hartmon, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Healing, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, No Aftercare, Non-Sexual Kink, Panic Attacks, Personal Growth, Punishment, Spanking, Therapy talk, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24930436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueelvewithwings/pseuds/blueelvewithwings
Summary: Cisco knows that working with Hartley would never end well... and he's proven right, as the first sentence out of Rathaway's mouth makes Cisco spiral down into a panic attack. But is that the end of it, really?
Relationships: Cisco Ramon/Eobard Thawne | Harrison Wells, Cisco Ramon/Hartley Rathaway, Cisco Ramon/Hartley Rathaway/Eobard Thawne | Harrison Wells, Hartley Rathaway & Eobard Thawne | Harrison Wells
Series: Spanking Sunday [61]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1154240
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	Mediocre

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Purpleyin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purpleyin/gifts).



> I promise that this is a lot lighter than the tags make it seem!!
> 
> And I promised Hans a Hartmon fic during Hartmonfest so... I'm barely scraping by, since it's the end of June already, but here it is!
> 
> A big, big thank you to Soph for beta reading <3

“Still keeping mediocre engineers around, I see,” Hartley drawled as he walked into the cortex. Cisco closed his eyes, trying to not process what he’d just heard, but it was too late.

His hands were already shaking, and the room was already spinning. But he didn’t give in to it, instead snarking back at Hartley, trying to give as good as he got.

And then Hartley grinned at him, and looked like a gleeful child as he crowed, “Ouch! You’ve lost your meta mojo,” and Cisco just lost it.

He knew he was harsh when he spoke to Hartley, and he could see it in his face that he was hitting his weak spot, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Come find me when you’re ready to work,” he ground out, and then fled from the Cortex before his panic attack would leave him unable to do so.

***

“ _Ramon, look at this. This is not the work of a top-notch engineer. You can do much better than this. This… this is mediocre, at most,” Dr. Wells said, and Cisco swallowed hard even as he nodded and took the micro-engine back from Dr. Wells._

“ _Of course, sir, I’ll… I’ll improve it.”_

_Behind him, Hartley Rathaway snickered, and Cisco watched Dr. Wells turn to him, his lips pursed._

" _You too, Rathaway. Your work today was not up to par with your abilities. Those plans you drew up...mediocre as well. I know you can do better.”_

_Cisco had never heard Hartley shut up that fast, but the damage was already done._

_Mediocre. Not good, not ‘not bad,’ not ‘I can see the potential in this’. No, mediocre. And both Hartley and Cisco knew what mediocre meant._

_A few minutes later, they were both laying across Dr. Wells’ desk, pants and underwear hanging around their ankles. Hartley was just glaring straight ahead, but Cisco watched Dr. Wells, saw him pick the cane he would punish them with today. Because that was what it meant for them to deliver a mediocre result to Dr. Harrison Wells: punishment. Punishment in the form of a caning, or belting. Sometimes a spanking with a paddle, too._

_Dr. Wells always claimed that he was sorry he had to punish them like this, but Cisco always thought that his smirk looked much too happy while he was punishing them. Somehow, punishing them together seemed to bring him even more fulfillment._

“ _Get ready,” he instructed them, and both of them made sure to go up on their tiptoes while pressing their upper body down on the desk, presenting Dr. Wells with their bare asses, offering them up for punishment._

_As usual, there was no other warning, and just seconds later, Cisco’s ass burst into pain by the first harsh strike of the cane. He bit down a wince, trying not to let it show that it affected him for as long as possible. Hartley was always much better in taking the spankings, always remaining stoic and just taking it, and then pulling up his pants and walking out as if nothing had happened, going straight back to work to try and improve himself, while Cisco always needed some time to gather himself, to try and get back in the right headspace, to push away the pain in his ass to go back to work. Sometimes he wasn’t able to hide his limp, and Caitlin would look at him weirdly, but so far, he’d managed to always smile her concern away._

_But sometimes he thought she might know what was going on, that she knew about the punishments and the rewards. Because when they came up with results that were pleasing to Dr. Wells, there would be rewards… such beautiful rewards. Often, the rewards were also handed out on Dr. Wells’ desk, also left them face down bent over the table, but they were so much more enjoyable. Dr. Wells was an attentive lover, Cisco had found, he was rough and demanding but he also always made sure that Cisco found his pleasure too. And on more than one occasion, if Cisco winced after an evening spent together, he would smile and tell Cisco that he knew he loved it rough, and that he only did so for Cisco’s benefit._

_And while Cisco sometimes wished for more gentle treatment… well, Dr. Wells knew best._

_Another strike with the cane jolted him out of his thoughts, and he couldn’t quite hold back a gasp now. A glance to the side revealed Hartley, still staring ahead, as if Dr. Wells’ office chair held all the answers that he needed to get better._

_Dr. Wells was standing on Cisco’s side this time, and laying the welts down across both their asses. Cisco was marginally glad that this time, he would not be the one having to deal with the end of the cane digging into his skin and creating extra nasty points of contact that would take a couple of days longer to heal._

_He took a bit of comfort in the thought that maybe Dr. Wells wanted to punish Hartley extra hard since he’d laughed at Cisco._

_Another strike fell, and Cisco winced. Beside him, Hartley pulled his lips into an ugly looking smirk, as if he was proud of the fact that he was able to remain silent while Cisco was already struggling with his composure._

_And as usual, it only took about three more strikes until Cisco was crying, little hiccuping sobs that he tried to keep in but couldn’t hold back, and Cisco could only hope that Dr. Wells wasn’t going to punish him more for losing control like this. So far, he never had, but every time again, Cisco feared that Dr. Wells would choose to teach him a lesson on control this time._

_Cisco bit down on his lip hard, and he was sure he’d draw blood before the caning was over. He’d always admired how Hartley could keep his composure like this, to stay so still and just bear it and then just walk back out as if nothing had happened._

_He knew that in the end, it was only about twenty strikes that they received, but his ass felt like it had been a thousand. It felt flaming and swollen and so bruised, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d discover his skin being split open in places later. Once the short little tap with the cane came that signalled that they were done, Hartley immediately pushed himself up, and Cisco could take a glance at his backside while he bent down to pull up his clothes, and yes, there were definitely spots where the skin was split open._

_Cisco knew that he and Hartley didn’t see eye to eye, but sometimes he wished that after Dr. Wells had replaced the cane to the rack on the wall and had walked out with a “Well done, you two, now back to work,” that Hartley would linger for a while just to allow them to calm down a little… maybe share a hug or two. Not that he necessarily wanted to hug Hartley, he just wanted to have someone to comfort him, to hold him for a moment until he was feeling alright again._

_But of course, that never happened. Instead, Hartley would pull up his pants, look back at Cisco, scoff at his swollen, reddened eyes, and walk right out._

_And then Cisco would be left there, feeling down and lonely and lost and in too much pain._

_But Dr. Wells was a good teacher, so Cisco was sure that he knew what he was doing. That he was helping them, really. Help them to be better engineers._

***

  
  


As soon as the word left his mouth, Hartley knew that it had been the wrong thing to say. He could see the panic forming in Cisco’s eyes, could see him tense and grow defensive and so, so panicked.

And still, somehow, Hartley couldn’t stop himself from digging deeper, making a more pointed jibe against Cisco’s ability as an engineer, citing Harrison Wells as the one to develop the Flash suit while knowing full well that it was Cisco’s work, and then mocking him for losing his meta abilities.

He wondered if there would be anyone to take care of Cisco after he stormed off, clearly about to succumb to a panic attack.

After an unsuccessful attempt at stabilizing Roderick, Hartley found himself roaming STAR Labs, peeking into once-familiar rooms and grounding himself in the environment that had once meant so much to him.

A peek into the main lab revealed it to be empty on first glance, but as he entered, he couldn’t help but notice the sobbing bundle of man in the corner, curled up into a tight ball and pressed against the wall, as if he wanted to disappear from the world.

Hartley walked over and took a moment to look at Cisco’s absolutely miserable form before he sat down next to him and pulled his knees to his chest as well. He didn’t say anything, unsure if his presence would be welcome.

“If you’re here to make more fun of me you can piss right off,” Cisco murmured after a while, and as he glanced up to glare at Hartley, Hartley was struck with how much he still looked the same… still looked like that poor, crying, chastised young engineer that needed time to cry after he’d been spanked for allegedly mediocre work.

“Not here to make fun,” he simply said, instead of the jibe about not having learned anything from his lessons with Dr. Wells.

Cisco just shrugged and leaned forward, burying his face in his knees. “How can you even say _that word?_ ” he asked, and Hartley let out a huff, letting his head fall backwards to lean against the wall.

“Therapy. Lots of it. For the shit my parents pulled, for the shit Harrison Wells pulled, Roderick, my ears… Told my entire damn life story to that shrink… and he helped me. Life’s better with fewer triggers.”

Cisco just huffed, and didn’t emerge from his childish hiding place. Something about the tension in his body told Hartley what he wanted to know even before he had voiced the question. “Did you ever get help? After Wells?”

Predictably, Cisco shrugged and then shook his head. “No time. And it wasn’t… wasn’t too bad.”

“Wasn’t too bad? Sure. He just abused us and also coerced us into sex, I guess. Nothing major.”

He could feel the sarcasm dripping from his voice, and Cisco flinched.

“Well, he was right, anyway.”

Hartley raised an eyebrow at that, even though Cisco couldn’t see it. “Right with what?”

“I’m just...” the laugh Cisco let out was so self-deprecating that it almost physically hurt Hartley. “I’m just nothing. Useless. _Mediocre_. Don’t even have my meta powers anymore, can’t even figure out how to stabilize your friend or how to fix Barry’s speed… what use am I, really. I’m just a big crybaby anyway.”

“You’re not fucking _mediocre_.” It came out harsher than Hartley had expected, and it had Cisco raising his head and staring at him with those too damn adorable red-rimmed eyes. That man really was a two-legged puppy. “Cisco, dammit. You made all this. The entire success that is the Flash. His suit, those annoying comms, all the tech, any extra gear. If I wasn’t so proud, I’d have asked you to go over my gloves with me, or even my hearing aids. You’re a fucking brilliant engineer, how can you not see that? And you… you have friends who care for you, and all that shit. That’s worth a lot, you know.”

Cisco just kept staring at him as if he was an alien, then shook his head. “You’re not… that. Either. And you have friends too, I assume.”

“Friend. Only one. He’s currently in a glass box because his cells aren’t stable. So… not big on the social life at the moment.”

“Wanna have coffee sometime?”, Cisco asked him, and now it was Hartley’s turn to wonder if maybe Cisco had been replaced by an alien.

“You, Cisco Ramon, would go get coffee with me, Hartley Rathaway?”

“Yeah… if you want to.” Cisco shrugged again, looking away, and Hartley had to snort out a laugh.

“Who’d have thought that it would ever come to that? Let’s… let’s do that.”

Cisco turned to look at him again then, and shuffled around so he was facing Hartley. “So… why did you come here?”

“Wanted to have a look around what you made out of the place, and then I saw you there and I just...”

“You never cared about that before. You always left me there, crying, and just walked out as if nothing had happened.”

“Yeah. I did,” Hartley said. “It was so ingrained in me to never show any weakness. No matter how much I was hurting, or if I couldn’t understand a person, I always had to keep going, always had to be strong and confident and good. Because you know, I was inherently a flawed person because I couldn’t hear, and my parents always got me the best tutors to teach me how to pretend that I’m not deaf, because with my disability being invisible, they could pretend it wasn’t there, you know? So I learned pretty quickly that no matter what, I have to stay strong and hard and not let anyone know what I’m feeling inside. And that carried over to STAR labs, I’m afraid. Sometimes I wanted to stay, just sit with you for a while, process what had just happened. Made sure you’d had a glass of water after all that crying. But it would have meant to be _weak_ , so I couldn’t ever do it. Probably mixed with some leftover elitist and racist thinking that my parents had about people with Latin American roots… bunch of bullshit.”

Cisco had been sitting still during his outburst, and was just watching him silently. Hartley swallowed and looked away, wondering why he’d opened up to his old rival about things that only his therapist and Roderick knew about.

“So...what changed?” Cisco asked him eventually, and Hartley chuckled.

“Therapy. Roderick. The Rogues, as you call them. Growing up, educating myself… a lot of painful revelations about myself. It wasn’t easy, but I like to think it made me a better person.”

“A better person, says the one who walked into our Cortex and managed to trigger the hell out of me within thirty seconds,” Cisco shot back, and Hartley was immensely grateful for the fact that he didn’t go the deep, touchy-feely route now.

“Well, I never said I stopped my teasing. Though my earlier comments might have been a bit... misspoken.”

“An apology? From Hartley Rathaway? Must be the end of the world,” Cisco exclaimed and slowly climbed to his feet to stretch himself. Hartley remained sitting on the floor, but he was openly watching Cisco now, wondering where they would go from here, and if maybe a sort of friendship would ever be possible for them. “So… if your therapist helped you with dealing with… things, would you recommend him?”

Hartley smirked and fished his phone out of his pocket, holding it out to Cisco. “Put in your number, and I’ll send you his contact data.”

After a long glance at Hartley, Cisco took the phone and entered his number for Hartley to save. Hartley pulled up Leo’s contact info and forwarded it, only to hear a snort just a short moment later. “ _Leo Snart_. The world is small.”

“I never got my head wrapped around the doppelgänger thing, but… he’s great at what he does.”

Hartley let his gaze wander through the room as Cisco tapped away on his phone, presumably to save either Leo’s or Hartley’s contact data.

“...Is that a hand-operated Singer sewing machine?”

“Uh… yes?”

Hartley was already up, walking over to inspect the machine in question. “I used to have one like this,” he murmured, letting his hand wander over the smooth form of it and idly turning the wheel. “Got it second-hand on a flea market when I was fifteen. It was in crappy condition and my parents almost threw it out, but I claimed it was for school projects. Really, I just wanted to sew my Pride outfits on them.”

On the other side of the sewing table, Cisco chuckled. “I had a similar model like this as well. My parents always appreciated arts more than sciences, and since I was into crafty engineering I thought I could also make other crafty things… somehow making clothes wasn’t as appreciated as my brother’s piano abilities. But I also made my own Pride things… my parents didn’t want me to go and I didn’t want to buy overpriced shirts with just a boring flag on them, so I made my own as well.”

Hartley tilted his head, looking at Cisco. “You went to Pride?”

“Still do, every year. Gotta show off that we’re here and queer, right?”

Pushing down the urge to rudely ask how exactly Cisco was queer, Hartley just smiled at him. “Yeah. Being a wanted criminal kind of limits the Pride options, but I do my best to be there anyway.”

“Well...you could always come with us next time. We always go as a group,” Cisco suggested, and Hartley looked down, suddenly feeling bashful.

“So how come you have a sewing machine here? A hand-operated one, at that?”

“Well… it sounds a bit stupid, but the electrical ones just can’t deal with the special fabrics and threads I use for the Flash suit. I have an electrical one too, where I make other things, but the Flash suit… yeah.”

“Is that why you get so upset when it gets ripped or damaged?,” Hartley teased, and Cisco rolled his eyes.

“Do you know how many hours it takes me to fix that thing on this mechanical machine?”

“I can imagine...” Hartley murmured, then pulled his hand back from the sewing machine, gathering his courage. “So… Pride group? Who’s all with you?”

“Oh, there’s Barry and me as the bi faction. Caitlin is there, of course. Wally often joins in, too - he’s pan and is… still figuring out the gender thing. Iris is usually there as well, as support. Last year Joe was also there, with Cecile. Cecile is… I don’t know, but she was covered in glitter and it was amazing.”

“Sounds like a very goodie two-shoes collection of people,” Hartley replied, though he had to admit that he was intrigued.

“Well, having a moral code is not the worst,” Cisco grumbled, and it was so cute that Hartley barely held back from booping his nose just to see how he would react.

“So…” Hartley said, aiming for casual. “Coffee then, and Pride… is that two dates already?”

“Who said those are dates?” Cisco looked at him, clearly trying to figure out what was going on.

“I did, and I haven’t heard you complain yet.”

“ _Hartley, you are such a self-assured asshole,_ ” Cisco chided him in Spanish, and then leaned in to press his lips to Hartley’s.

And really, who was Hartley to argue with that.

They only pulled apart when there was a knock on the door, and Barry came in, with a confused looking Roderick in tow.

Before he could even think a clear thought, Hartley had launched himself across the entire lab to envelope Roderick in a tight hug, for once not caring who might see him. He had waited for years for this moment, after all.

A clearing of a throat from behind him was what made him pull back in the end. Barry had mysteriously – speedily – disappeared already, and Cisco was looking extremely doubtful.

“Uh, congrats on… being stable again, I guess? I hope this is not your boyfriend, Hartley?”

At that, Roderick laughed – and boy had he missed that voice and that laugh – and shook his head. “Nah. Best friend, found brother… but he’s too high maintenance and also not curvy enough for me.”

Hartley lightly punched him in the arm, then hugged him again. “Missed you too,” he whispered, low enough that hopefully only Roderick would be able to hear it.

“Love ya, Rathaway,” Roderick murmured back, and then they pulled apart.

“Gotta take this loser home now, but… message me about coffee?” Hartley asked Cisco, who nodded, eyes still wandering between them, but he was clearly smiling now.

“Have a safe trip home, and get some rest. Both of you. And don’t forget that you owe Barry a fight with Godspeed now.”

Hartley flipped him the bird as he pulled Roderick out of the lab, and he could hear Cisco’s laugh following them down the hallway.

Before they’d even made it into the STAR Labs parking lot, Hartley’s phone vibrated. He pulled it out and saw two messages waiting for him.

_Coffee?_

_< 3_

He chuckled, and he would swear forever that he didn’t blush, even if Roderick would claim the opposite.

While walking to their car, he quickly typed out a response.

_So eloquent, Ramon. Tomorrow?_

_Meet me at Jitters at 5._


End file.
